Ishmar Talds
Name: Ishmar Talds. Age: 103. Race: Dunmer. Gender: Male. Height: 5'11 Birthsign: The Steed. Class: Stable master, empath, and mounted archer. Appearance At a glance, Ishmar is a fairly average looking Mer. He stands at a fairly average 5'11 and has a medium-sized form. His skin is a soft mix between grey and brown that is criss-crossed with scars accumulated over a century of dangerous life. The largest of these scars are on his back, telling numerous stories of the savagery and violence that Men, Mer, and Beats are capable of. As with most Tamrielics, his skin tone appears to be darkened slightly with dirt from work outdoors and the lack of regular hygiene, though he does try to keep himself reasonably well groomed. Ishmar walks with the distinctive swagger of someone who has spent the better part of their life in the saddle and has rather heavily muscled arms from the constant action of drawing his bow. The rest of his body is well muscled as well from constant exercise and a good, balanced diet. In addition, Ishmar carries himself with a confidence that only comes with many years of getting to know oneself. Ishmar's face is a rather angular and sharp one. It seems to be set in a permanent, unchanging expression. This expression is a cross between a glare and a scowl, leading some to believe that he is a severe, angry person (which is not true, but we'll speak about that in the personality section). His cheekbones are high and sharp while his cheeks themselves are concave and scarred. Below his cheekbones rest a sharp, angular jaw that ends in a point. His brows are eyebrow-less and rise diagonally, as if permanently angry. Ishmar's nose is long, thin, crooked, and has an odd hook-like appearance. Beneath his brows rest a pair of almond-shaped, solid red eyes that seem to judge you like the scales of oblivion at all times. These eyes are set deep into their sockets and are rather large. His sockets are much darker than the rest of his face, nearly black, making his eyes glow almost menacingly in comparison. Finally Ishmar's ears, or rather ear, is high and pointed. The left ear, however, is completely missing with a rather savage burn left where it used to be. Ishmar's hair is as black as the void and falls well past his shoulders, rough and usually somewhat tangled. A few strands of his hair are held together by beads of random material and design that he has found, bought, or made over his century of life. Though small and meaningless to most, each bead represents an import time, person, or adventure in Ishmar's life and are constantly added on as he grows older and his hair grows longer. A similarly coloured beard adorns the Dunmer's chin, hiding his sharply pointed jaw. This beard, however, lacks the beads that it's companion contains. It falls to his collar bone and is sharply pointed and nearly unmoving. When nervous or thoughtful Ishmar has the tendency to stroke his beard repeatedly and subconsciously, a habit that he wishes to stop but can't. A traditional dark blue Dunmer tattoo starts on the top of Ishmar's left hand and travels up his arm. From the top of his shoulder the tattoo splits into two pieces, one of which starts for his back and the other for his chest. The chest-ward one splits further over his left pectoral to make a vaguely tree-like design while the other one travels straight down his spine to his lower back. Skills and known spells First and foremost, Ishmar is a man of the saddle. The Mer has a natural affinity with the giant beasts and is one of the best cavalrymen and horse trainers this Era. He feels most comfortable on a horse, believing that there is nothing more satisfactory than the union between horse and rider. He spends the majority of his day with his horses, familiarizing himself with them and training them extensively. Ishmar himself has learned how to maneuver himself around the saddle and stirrups to allow himself the perfect opportunity for a shot and has his own method of commanding his steed while firing. This brings us to his next skill, archery. While Ishmar is actually a rather average archer and can be outshot by most hunters on foot, he is quite skilled in mounted archery. This is a result of how Ishmar directs his steed and how he moves himself in his saddle to give the the best oppurtunity to fire. One of the Mer's favorite methods of attack that has proven to work time and time again is the circling method. This strategy, developed by Ishmar when he was a young man in Morrowind and shown to be effective hunting Trolls and Giants in Cyrodill and Skyrim, is quite simple. The cavalryman circles around his enemies and rains arrows down on them while remaining completely mobile. The superior range of his recurve bonemold bow means he can keep enemies, even ones with other ranged weapons, out of range and the quality of his steed lets him outrun any charge. He also uses false retreats extensively, twisting his body and striking down his enemies as they chase him, waiting until they grow fatigued, and then turning around and dealing swift death. From birth, Ishmar has shown a natural adeptness in magic. The Dunmer was first trained in Destruction, which he failed miserably at (though he can create a small, match-like flame on the tip of his finger), so he moved on to the other schools. Before long it became evident that he was destined to follow the school of Illusion. Over time his skill in Illusion has grown and he's developed into a moderately powerful empath, specializing in sensing and altering emotions as well as placing thoughts in people's heads. Unlike most, though, his power was focussed on the manipulation and command of animals, not people. This gives him a distinct advantage in horse breeding and riding, giving him the ability to command lesser-minded animals via the mind and imprent complex memories into their minds to greatly aid in training. In addition to all of this, Ishmar knows how to make kumis (an alcoholic horse-milk beverage). He usually makes the light drink for himself only but will often times offer it to visitors at the stables and sell it in small quantities to the local inn or tavern for those who have more exotic tastes. He's a fair enough cook, making passable food and rather good stir fry, and knows a limited amount of knowledge on plants and alchemy from his past adventures. Clothing / armor Ishmar's usual dress consists of a simple, sleeveless leather jerkin worn over a buttoned shirt of varying colour (usually white or brown). Durable brown trousers held up by a leather belt adorn his legs, most pairs being patched up around the knees. One thing that the Dunmer will spend copious amounts of coin on is footwear, specifically boots. Every one of his boots (and there are many) have cost him a fine sum and have been crafted only by skilled cobblers with the highest quality leather. In particularly cold or wet weather Ishmar covers himself in a hooded cloak with a black, waterproof exterior and a warm, fur interior. A simple golden band wraps around his left ring finger, inscribed with Daedric runes. While some may think that the ring is tribal or magical in nature, it's actually his old wedding ring inscribed with a bit of poetry that his late wife enjoyed. Ishmar also possesses a shirt of Imperial-made lamellar armor made from dark leather lamellaes. The lamellar does not possess sleeves to allow for easy arm movement and is deceptively strong, able to ward off arrows and a few slashes easily enough. To armor his lower-half, he also possesses a knee-length lamellar war-skirt that's split down the middle to allow him to sit astride a horse, this is worn over regular pants and heavy boots. Despite the quality of the armor and the money that was put into making it, Ishmar rarely has the excuse to wear it, now that he's settled down a bit. Weapons The one weapon- if you would call it that- that Ishmar always has on his person is his trusty seax knife. The knife is Nordic-crafted and is made of heavy iron that is inlaid with ancient Nordic designs (similar to those found on ancient Nord swords). Ishmar uses the long, heavy blade as a tool more than anything, using it in multiple tasks around the stable. Don't let this fool you though, the over sized knife can still ruin someone's day in a heartbeat. The knife is worn in a leather sheath on the Dunmer's left hip. When Ishmar is expecting a fight, he totes a bonemold recurve bow. The bow is superior to most bows, though it's not as flashy as some of the (rather nonsensical) metal ones. The bow, made for Ishmar when he was a young warrior, has been made with care through a rather old Dunmer technique. Horn, sinew, and bone are glued together in layers to improve energy storage, and in turn power and arrow speed. The bow is much smaller than a regular Imperial long bow, allowing easier aiming while in the saddle and easier storage. The bow, which is older than most Men will ever be, has been extremely well maintained throughout the decades and has become a part of the Dunmer who wields it. Moreover, the bow is quite literally part of the family, as it's crafted from his grandfather's bones. Ishmar is rather particular about his choice of arrows, only using either authentic Dunmer bonemold arrows or iron arrows crafted by Master Tulii in Cheydinhal. Miscellaneous items Horses- Ishmar currently has seven horses in his possession, a good deal less than what he had before the catastrophe at his last stable. His own horse, Tranquil, is a horse native to the mainland Morrowind plain where Ishmar was born (from the entirely made-up "Roughcoat" breed). The mare, who is nine years old, is rather small compared to other breeds, standing thirteen-and-a-half hands tall from the ground to her withers, and has a shaggy, light grey coat. While people unfamiliar with horses may find her rather unimpressive because of her lack of size she can outrun most other horses in Tamriel and has legendary stamina, capable of travel many miles in a day. Tranquil is the best trained horse that Ishmar owns and is by far his favorite. She understands his magical commands easily, is not easily spooked, and is always eager to serve. Ishmar also has two Shire horses native to Skyrim, one of the being a black stallion, the other being a bay mare, and both standing right around 17 hands tall from the ground to their withers. Two two horses are draught horses, bred for work and able to pull immense weights. After that, he has three rounceys, a roan stallion standing 15 hands tall, a brown mare standing 14 hands tall, and a skewbald mare stand 14.3 hands tall. These horses are rather standard and have been moderately trained to served as pack horses, war horses, or riding horses. Then Ismar has a elegant, finely bred palfry. This horse is much smaller than most others, standing at a measly 12.5 hands. This stallion has a brown-and-white leopard coat and is bred strictly for riding. This horse, however, is many times more valuable than its much-larger draught horse relative, costing a sum that some might find ridiculous for a horse so small and seemingly useless. The reason for its value is it's ambling gait, giving a rider a smooth, comfortable, and quick means of transportation opposed to the rough canter of normal horses. Finally, Ishmar is in position of an Imperial-bred bay destrier stallion, the equivalent of a pot of gold in the equine world. The horse, which stands 16.4 hands tall from the ground to its withers, is highly valued by knights and royalty all across Tamriel and widely regarded as the best warhorse. This horse has been bred warfare and has received only the finest training. It's intelligent, fast, powerful, and fierce, the ideal mount for a knight or noble. The only downside to it is that it's too expensive, and Ishmar feels that no one in this part of Skyrim will have the need and money necessary to purchase it. In addition to his horses Ishmar has the proper tack and horseshoes for all of them. Tranquil also has a set of leather lamallar barding to wear in case she is used in a combat situation, just like her rider. Ishmar has a few regular household items to fill his new home, several tomes on horses and Illusion, a moderate supply of bonemold arrows, and a chest of septims. He also always has a bit of kumis with him every day, getting roughly a gallon from his mares each day. Personality Despite his angry appearance, Ishmar is actually a rather kind Mer. In his youth, he was obsessed with his personal code of honor and glory, determined to protect his loved ones and prove himself to the world. Now however, he lives by another code that is just as noble. The stable master is determined to help others when he can, live a comfortable, calm life, and raise the best steeds he can. If he proves himself through these endeavours then so be it, but that's secondary now. As said before, Ishmar is a kind and generous person, never denying a person hospitality or a chance to get off on the right foot. Sure, he may do his fair share of grumbling, mumbling, jesting, and complaining, but he's really just a big softy on the inside. When threatened, though, it becomes apparent that Ishmar still has a bit of his warrior spirit in him, as he's never been one to back down from a fight or challenge. Some may perceive Ishmar as odd because of his rather close bond with his horses, particularly Tranquil, but the truth is that he simply creates strong bonds with others. It can be guaranteed that Ishmar will protect his friends when necessary and will show concern when he thinks something is wrong. Because of his skill as an empath, Ishmar oftentimes puts out waves of feeling that can influence other's opinions of him. This makes him appear more likeable than he is, at times, though someone reasonably adept in magic and mental defense can halt or at least recognize what he is doing. Major flaw Horrible hearing from his damaged left ear (Nearly deaf on that side), allergic to cats (including Khajiit). Background Ishmar Talds was born on the Deshaan Plain, located in southern mainland Morrowind. The plain is quite large, stretching from the Valus Mountains to the Thir River, and once provided House Dres with their great wealth from its fertile soil. Before House Dres settled the Plain and covered it in plantations however, it was home to multiple tribes of nomadic horsemen. When the Red Year came, House Dres and the Deshaan Plain were hit hard. The capital and only major city in Dres, Tear, was absolutely devastated by earthquakes, killing thousands. To make things worse, the lack of sunlight that came as a result of the Red Year devastated the saltrice plantations in the Deshaan Plain, destroying Dres' economy. Then, while House Dres was already on its knees, the Argonians came in and committed genocide on the once-wealthy slave owners. While the invaders were eventually repelled, the fighting never really stopped, as the Argonians continued to raid southern Morrowind villages. But people did manage to survive in the hell-hole that was the now-barren, ashy Deshaan Plain. These people adopted the lifestyle of their nomadic horsemen ancestors and started relying on the area's horses more and more. They stayed on the move to avoid Argonian raiding parties, hunted and battled from horseback, adopted a meat and horse milk diet, and brought back the culture of their ancient nomadic ancestors. Ishmar was born into one of these neo-nomadic tribes, one whose territory was rather close to Black Marsh but still within the Deshaan Plain. The tribe was a small one, not being able to grow from the constant skirmishes with Argonians and the lack of a stable food source. The tribe was shaped by its environment, turning its people into rough, warlike beings with a tight family-like hierarchy. Ishmar's father was one of the tribes mounted archer warriors and his mother was a moderately powerful fire mage. The two, like all of the others, were strict and expected only perfection from young Ishmar. He was expected to be a great warrior, like his father and all of the other males in the tribe. He knew this growing up and was fine with it, looking forward to the day that he would craft his own bow as a rite of passage. He was constantly surrounded by violence and death, both from the Argonians and starvation. As a result of this, young Ishmar never really learned the seriousness of death until he was much older, thinking it to be something regular and of no particular circumstance. His training started about as soon as he found his balance and could stably walk upwards. His regular curriculum, taught to him by his mother, father and a few of the tribe's elders, consisted of horse training, bow practice, cavalry tactics, and magical familiarity. He also learned some basics, like how to read, simple arithmetic, and Deshaan Plain history. Originally, his mother tried to train him in the school of Destruction, particularly the manipulation and creation of heat and flame. However, while it was obvious that Ishmar was magically adept and had good stamina levels, his skill with heat, or any Destruction techniques for that matter, was pitiful. Meanwhile, his father taught him how to shoot a wooden starter short bow, how to care for and ride Roughcoat horses, how to view things from a soldier's perspective, and what was right and wrong in the tribe's eyes. His parents were both rough teachers, oftentimes beating him severely if he failed, but he thought this to be normal, as all in the tribe had been taught that way. While Ishmar advanced through marksman training at a regular pace and quickly showed his natural affinity with horses, he did fall far behind in his Destruction training. His mother was rather frustrated with him, as most children in his age group with similar magical adeptness were already creating streams of flame capable of melting iron and all he could manage was a small, low intensity flame that never left his hands. His mother's lessons drained of information and turned into beating sessions instead, where his mother unleashed her frustration on him with no particular goal. When tending to his father's horse one day, though, a tribe elder walked by and felt the boy subtly using magic on the steed to calm its nerves. The elder informed his mother and took on the burden in training him, this time in Illusion. It turned out that the boy had been using empathy on horses without knowing it for a while now, which made him easy to train. Ishmar started seeing less and less of his mother, instead just seeing his father and Elder Dysham on a daily basis. Under Dysham, Ishmar's empathy skills quickly grew and his horse and Illusion lessons were tied together. By the time he earned his bonemold bow at age 17 he could already ride, train, and control steeds as well as any other warrior and was a relatively fair shot. The process of earning his bow was something that Ishmar had looked forward to since birth, and was the highlight of his young life. In Deshaan Plain nomadic tradition, it is said that a young man will not become a true warrior until he makes his own bonemold bow from the bones of his closest dead relative. In Ishmar's case that was his deceased grandfather, and cantankerous old man who died when his grandson was seven. The process, though considered odd and revolting by some outsiders, was almost holy to Ishmar. With help from his father he crafted a fine recurve bonemold bow worthy of his grandfather's bones. This moment marked the beginning of Ishmar's life as a warrior. After a week of constant training with his new one (which was much better than the wooden self-bows he'd been using) he rode out with his father and two other's to clear out an Argonian raiding camp that was thought to be the source of the last two or three raids. The four mounted archers had great success, riding into the camp and shooting down the sleeping raiders before they had too much of a chance to gather up proper weapons and armor. Later that night Ishmar ate among the warriors, something he had looked forward to all of his life, and drank copious amounts of kumis for the first time. His goal now accomplished, Ishmar reveled in his life as a warrior. The young man continued his Illusion lessons, defended the camp from Argonians, and in turn raided the Argonians themselves. Two years after earning his bow, his mother passed away from Stomach Rot, a painful death. The death didn't affect Ishmar much, though, as he genuinely hated his mother and hadn't been in close contact with her for the last few years. The death affected his father, though, causing him to retire from the life as a warrior and instead work as the tribes kumis maker. Ishmar thought him a coward for this, calling him weak and not worthy to call himself a tribesmen. After that the two didn't speak to each-other much and Ishmar adopted Elder Dysham as his father figure. Life continued on as it always had for the tribe, violently and without outside contact. The Deshaan Plain, which was now barren and covered in a thick layer of ash, was seldomly visited by outsiders and House Dres had all but forgotten it. They continued to fight against the Argonian raiders in a never ending battle, stuck at a stalemate. But then, one Second Seed night, an abnormally large Argonian raiding party came to end the dispute once and for all. The Argonian's were smart enough to catch the Dunmer at the end of a watch shift when the current watchmen were tired and starting to doze off. The lizard crept up to the horses first, setting many of the tribe's Roughcoats on fire (via magic) before any of the warriors had too much of an idea on what was going on. This left the tribe without many of its greatest weapons, leaving them relatively defenseless. Then the raiders started the slaughter. Within minutes about half of the camp was killed, still drowsy from sleep. Luckily Ishmar was on the other side of the camp with his horse intact. He grabbed up his bow and arrows before mounting his horses and starting for Dysham's tent, forgetting about his disgrace of a father. He struck down some Argonians on his way but it was clear that if he stayed to fight he wouldn't make too much of a difference and would certainly die. Instead he focussed on finding his centuries-old master and getting out of the area to have revenge another day. However, upon reaching Dysham's tent he saw a lizard standing over him with the bloody blade. Ishmar quickly struck the raider down and riches to his master, finding him alive but with a nasty gut wound. Ishmar threw Dysham over the back of his horse and quickly left camp, leaving behind his tribesmen quickly. He felt horrible later, but at the time his brain was working like a precise machine, only registering the pure facts and eliminating any unnecessary sentiments. He rode and rode, knowing that if he traveled west enough he would leave the plain and possibly find civilization. He tried to patch up Dysham as best as he could, but hadn't ever really paid attention during field medic lessons. Eventually, the two reached the Valus Mountains at dusk the next evening, thanks to the great speed and stamina of the Roughcoat. Ishmar camped in a pass briefly, allowing his horse to graze, resting a little himself, and giving Dysham an herbal tea that, if he remembered correctly from his lessons, helped ward of infection, probably. The next morning, well before sunrise, they set off again through the pass. About an hour after sunrise, they came out on the Cyrodill side of the mountain. Ishmar, who had never left the ashen plain, looked at the scene in wonder. Everything was green, the ground, the trees, even the little ponds that dotted the landscape. The whole area seemed to give off an aura of pure life and the air hummed with the sounds of nature. It was entirely alien to Ishmar, and it almost hurt his eyes. But Ishmar didn't have too much time to enjoy the view, as he needed to find a healer quickly. In the distance peeking up from the great trees surrounding it, was what Ishmar assumed was a city. It was like a camp, but bigger, and instead of horse-hide tents it was made of buildings looking similar to those that were sometimes found in various states of disrepair on the Deshaan Plain. As he neared the city, he saw more and more people on the well-maintained road. They all looked at him oddly, making odd comments as he passed and avoiding him. He was in too much of a hurry to pay them much mind, though. Before long he reached the gated wall to the city itself, standing taller than anything Ishmar had ever seen, barring the mountains. The guards at the gate looked at him suspiciously but did not move to raise a weapon of any sort and when Ishmar asked them where a healer could be found they gave him directions. So Ishmar took Dysham, still unconscious, to this healer. The healer gave him bad news, though, saying that Dysham had been stabbed with a poisoned blade and would not survive the night. The healer suggested that Ishmar found somewhere to rest for the night and told him that they would work out the arrangement for the corpse tomorrow. Ishmar, deeply saddened and now mourning the loss of everyone he'd ever known, let his Roughcoat out of the city to graze freely and returned to the city to visit the local tavern. No one bothered the strange-looking Dunmer, clad in horsehide clothes, as he drowned himself in strong Cyrodillic drink until he was woken up the next morning by the barkeep. The barkeep kept insisting that Ishmar 'payed' for his ale, a strange concept for the tribesman. Upon further inquiry he figured everything out and went to get a job at the stables to pay his tab. The next few months passed quickly. Ishmar gave Dysham a proper Deshaan Plain disposal, extracting and bleaching his bones and then burning the rest of his body. He picked up a job at the local stables easily and stayed only long enough to pay off his tab and get himself a reasonable amount of the 'Septims' that the city-folk seemed to cherish more than anything. It took Ishmar a long time to adjust to city life, where people feared death more than anything and were quite content with living ridiculous close to their neighbor in the same area from birth to death. The tribesman quickly grew tired of the quiet, boring city life and seemed out other work, unable to bring himself to return to the plain. Ishmar found a job with the count clearing the forests of dangerous creatures, particularly trolls. Throughout the following years he traveled all across Cyrodill performing similar tasks, along with bounty hunting, and working at various stables when there was no more exciting work to be had. Over the years he started to calm down a bit, though he was still fierce by Cyrodillic standards. Eventually, when he was 33 (4E 131) he was wounded by a troll in the forest outside of Bravil. After being rescued and brought to the Chapel of Mara for treatment Ishmar met someone who would permanently change his life, Amitee. Amitee was a Bosmer-Breton mix who was 21 years old and a priestess of Lady Mara. She cared for Ishmar while he was wounded and the two quickly established a strong relationship. Amitee was a near polar opposite of Ishmar at the time, soft, kind, bright, and pacifistic. Despite this, the two were instantly attracted to each other and, before long, fell deeply in love. Two years later, when Amitee was 23 and Ishmar was 35 (though Amitee appeared to be a couple years older than Ishmar) the two married in Bravil's own Chapel of Mara, where they had first met each other. Ishmar was hesitant about the marriage at first, thinking that such a permanent bond would tie him down forever and render him miserable, but his love for Amitee outweighed such concerns. The two bought a house together in Bravil and while Amitee continued working as a priestess of Mara, Ishmar did what he had always done when he was left without mercenary work, he worked in a stable. But this time it was not another person's stable, but rather his own. The odd couple was immensely happy together and before long Amitee had settled Ishmar down a bit. Though they were not particularly wealthy they made due with what they had and lived comfortably enough in the poor southern city. The Elven (mostly) couple tried to have a child together but, much to their dismay, could not seem to produce one. Upon asking the local apothecary about this he said that Ishmar was infertile, likely due to the high amounts of ash ingested throughout his young life. (Which, Ishmar realized, was most likely a contributing factor to his old tribe's small size) The news disheartened the couple greatly and they returned home depressed. They continued their life normally for the next couple years, Amitee showing Ishmar the soft light of Mara and Ishmar showing Amitee how to ride horses. Ishmar payed a bit of Septims to have a Roughcoat brought from the plains to Bravil and he bred it with his own, planning to ride and sell the exotic horses and Cyrodill throughout his life. He still did some adventurous work here and there, but never too far away from Amitee or too dangerous to make her worry. Amitee's sister, Estelle (who was not too fond of Ishmar but recognized what he meant to her sister) had full-blooded Breton twins and Amitee and Ishmar found themselves to be an aunt and uncle. The two treated their niece and nephew almost like children and spoiled them with various treats. Ishmar took a liking to his nephew and the bow was fascinated with his odd uncle. He taught the boy, named Martel, about Deshaan culture, and, when he was a bit older, how to ride and shoot a bow. Amitee and her niece also spent a good deal of time together, Amitee teaching her how to heal and worship Mara. Five years after their marriage, when Amitee was 28 and Ishmar was 40, the two traveled all across Cyrodill, Valenwood, and Skyrim on an extended vacation. Out of all of the places they went, though, the Imperial City was their favorite destination. Three years and four visits later the couple sold their house and stable (though they kept their horses) and moved out to the Imperial City. They managed to buy a reasonable sized house and a similarly sized stable and restarted their life in the new city. Amitee became a healer in the city, curing common ailments through prayer and herbs. Meanwhile, Ishmar managed his own stable once more and hired a few stable boys to help out in the care of his steeds. Ishmar and Amitee Talds' niece and nephew visited once a year with their mother, spending the summer riding horses, visiting with their aunt and uncle, and exploring the largest city in Tamriel. The couple made a few friends as well and entered dancing classes. Ishmar left behind his career in combat more and more each day and he was truly, purely happy. Then one day, at the stables, one of the Emporer's men stopped by and inspected the stable and its horses, an event that would make the couple's life even better. The man saw the quality ans training of Ishmar's horses and asked if he would be interested in training war horses for the Imperial Legion. The new position would give Ishmar a good amount of Imperial rounceys, coursers, and destriers to breed and train, give him a large sum of money for each one that was successfully trained, and give him a much, much larger stable to house these horses. After consulting his wife he quickly accepted the new position, sold his old stable, and moved into the new one. The couple suddenly found themself with a large influx of Septims and they upgraded their lifestyle a bit, buying better clothes, better food, better entertainment, and a much better house. Ishmar loved the new position, getting payed rather respectable amounts of Septims to do what he had always loved. But things were not all well. As the years progressed on the couple faced the problem that most other interracial couples face in Tamriel, uneven ageing. As Ishmar stayed in roughly the same physical condition throughout the years, Amitee did not. Her Breton blood weakened her Bosmer blood a substantial bit, and though she did not age like a human, she aged much faster than Ishmar. By the time Amitee was 40 and Ishmar was 52 Amitee already looked like she could be Ishmar's mother. The physical difference was rather odd to others, but they loved each other all the same. To make things worse, Ishmar also developed a rather serious rivalry with another stable working for the Legion. The rivalry started out innocent enough, just a bit of friendly competition, but as Ishmar took away more and more of their business they started to act more hostile. Before long Ishmar's stable boys were receiving beatings and a couple of his rounceys were slaughtered. Eventually the fighter in Ishmar came back and he started employing similar methods against the other stable, but Imperial laws made him stay low-scale and discreet. Things continued in this fashion for a while, with the other stable growing more and more violent and Amitee growing older each day. Amitee also eventually developed Alzheimer's and her memories started to fade, all the while making her more paranoid and less joyful. The years melted into a downward slope of misery for Ishmar and he cursed his superior lifespan, wishing he could age in the same way that Amitee did. Then, when Amitee was 68 and Ishmar was 80, she passed away from natural causes. Ishmar, ashamed as he was to admit it, was kind of relieved, as Amitee couldn't even remember who he was at the end. The Dunmer grieved greatly, shutting himself away in his stable and only talking to his stable hands to give commands. Every night he drowned himself in drink and every day he spouted cantankerous verbal lashings. The quality of his horses lowered, though they were still of fine quality, as Ishmar's empathic powers made his could mood affect the horses. Then, two years later in the dead of night, the owner of the stable he was competing with decided to finally end his competition. He sent a magically-gifted mercenary to set Ishmar's stable on fire and burn all of the rather expensive horses that slept inside. However, when the mercenary showed up to burn the stable he found Ishmar there, who had decided to visit his horses after not being able to sleep. This didn't stop the mercenary, though. He sent a fireball right and the stable master's head and hit him right in the side of the face, burning his ear off and making him go unconscious. Then, thinking Ishmar dead, he proceeded to set the stable on fire. Ishmar came too several minutes later and attempted to save as many horses as he could. He managed to get over half of them out before the building collapsed. When he spoke to the Imperial Legion cavalry officials about it the next day he found that they did not believe his story one bit, declaring it too unlikely. To make things worse, they claimed that the stable and most of the horses in it were Imperial property and demanded that Ishmar pay for their destruction. The stable master was forced to sell his house a bit of his own horses to pay for the reparations, draining him of Septims quickly. Then, cursing the Legion and his bad luck, Ishmar left the city that he and Amitee had fallen in love with years ago to start anew somewhere else, for he knew any other stables in the area would suffer a similar fate. So he travelled north, to a place he had last visited years ago. Finding himself without enough Septims to buy more horses and start another stable, he took his three measly steeds and turned to mercenary work once more, mainly dealing with Giant attacks on the plains of Whiterun. After a few years (21) he had travelled Skyrim a bit and made a sufficient amount of gold to buy a few horses and start up a stable for what seemed like the millionth time. He saw a great opportunity when he heard of the "New Hold", Valton. The town apparently did not currently have a working stable and Ishmar saw it as both a fresh start and a good business opportunity.